


No Remedy for Memory

by KaliTracer



Series: Dark Paradise [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, THIS IS THE ONE WITH ANGST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-29 06:55:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaliTracer/pseuds/KaliTracer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even happy endings sometimes are no match for the cruelty of reality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Remedy for Memory

**Author's Note:**

> Ohkay, I have to say sorry for this. Because wow, I took happy then broke it. Even I have to admit this sucks. Sorry guys. 
> 
> This is basically all the smut of the first fic with a bonus: Angst-Unhappy-Ending! T_T
> 
> Beta'd by ViralGuardian.

Bright, nearly blinding sunshine crossed over pale skin. Warming it as a breeze drifts through an open window, ruffling the blue curtains there.  
  
Sleeping on unaware to the sun’s progress, Loki shifts under a light sheet. His long black hair spread out over the pillow, messy from his night’s rest. He remains asleep even as the door to the room opens and closes. It’s only when a body blocks the warm sunlight that he begins to stir. He’s pulled even further from slumber when a hand gently brushes hair behind his ear.  
  
“Wakey wakey, baby,” Clint says, leaning down and brushes a kiss over a smooth cheek.  
  
“-will do no such thing,” Loki grumbles, eyes firmly shut.  
  
“Come on, for me?” Clint tucks his face into Loki’s neck, placing kiss along the expanse.  
  
“I suppose that-” Loki cuts the kisses off by grabbing Clint and pulling him on top of him then rolling them both over so he’s on top. “can be arranged.” He grins smugly as he pins his lover to their bed.  
  
Smirking, Clint pulls him down into a more thorough kiss.  
  
“You have been out running all ready?” Loki asks, between long wet kisses.  
  
“Um, yeah, it’s nearly ten thirty,” Clint says, grinding up his hips in slow rocking motions.  
  
“Lies,” Loki hisses, biting Clint’s lip in retaliation, even though he can see the bright red number 10:24 on the clock sitting on their nightstand.  
  
“You just don’t want to admit you’ve become a proper beach bum,” the half felt reply gets partially lost for a moment until Loki draws back.  
  
“I thought you were the one who had the bum,” he says, completely straight faced.  
  
Bursting out in laughter, Clint’s body vibrates with his chuckles. Loki stares down in amusement.  
  
“I seriously cannot believe you said that,” he says, laughing. He runs his hands up Loki’s half-naked form.  
  
They both grin and move back together for more kissing. Loki won’t admit to the thrum of want running through his veins. It isn’t like they had been apart for long.  
  
“You gonna spread out on the sand today? Work on your tan?” Clint asks, breathing picking up a bit when Loki pushes up at the sweaty t-shirt he’s wearing.  
  
“I do not work on my tan,"Loki says, like the word offends him. "I read. Later, though, I’ve missed you too much,” he states before lowering down again to devour Clint’s mouth. His lover moans, hands coming up to grip at his hips. They kiss and roll their hips against each other, lost in the half teasing sensation, in the promise of more...soon.  
  
“Need you naked,” Clint murmurs, planting kisses on any patch of skin he can find.  
  
“Agreed,” Loki says, tugging on the offending shirt. He almost curses it until Clint sits up some and they both draw it over his head. Freed from it, Clint starts pulling at the striped boxers Loki’s wearing.  
  
It takes a small miracle they don’t knock heads trying to get his boxers down while he remains kneeling. They end up rolling around on their bed, Clint chuckling and threatening to get scissors as they try to get rid of clothes. Clint’s black jogging shorts go next. Loki arches an eyebrow when he finds no underwear beneath the material, but says nothing. For the moment he’s just grateful, and shows his appreciation by sucking down Clint’s hardening dick.  
  
“Oh, fuck,” Clint says, hand immediately going to Loki’s head, threading dark hair but not moving him.  
  
Loki bobs his head, slicking the length with his saliva. He enjoys the stuttered breaths and tiny twitches that show he’s having the desired effect. Of course, as Clint hardens, it becomes obvious he’s starting to lose his focus. The hand on his head tightens as Loki swirls his tongue around the head. A whimper escapes his lover and he smirks before wrapping his lips around him once more.  
  
“Baby, please, fuck that feels so good,” Clint babbles a little when the suction goes up a notch. He fights the urge to thrust his hips up into the demi-god’s mouth. It takes a lot of control to slowly tug on Loki’s head to get him to move off.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Loki asks, after his lips pop free.  
  
“Nothing’s wrong, but I need to kiss you. I also thought you would want something else,” Clint raises his eyebrows suggestively, smiling when Loki growls.  
  
He moves up, kissing obscenely tanned and toned skin as he goes. Each kiss lingers for a moment, though Clint’s not sure if it is magic or just Loki that makes it feel that way.  
  
They dive back into kissing, opened mouths as their tongues explore the others mouth when they can. Loki’s addicted to this feeling, he knows. This feeling of being wrapped up together, mouths locked. It’s probably the one thing that he feels like he can completely own. It’s his and Clint’s and no one can take it away.  
  
“What do you want baby?” Clint asks, sweetly when they have to break for air. He’s rubbing his dick up against Loki’s, and there’s a sense that if something doesn’t happen soon they will end up picking up the pace and losing themselves in it.  
  
The truth is Loki doesn’t know what he wants. There are so many things that he struggles to compile all the possibilities. It must show on his face because Clint kisses him again, brief and almost chaste.  
  
“You can have anything you want,” he whispers, hand going down to a pale hip to urge some motion against him. “You want to fuck me or do you want me inside you?” Breath hitches as they roll against each other, pleasure sparking up their spines.  
  
“I-I’m not sure,” Loki admits. He noses his way up Clint’s neck, sucking a mark into the skin before licking at the spot behind his ear. Hips buck up under him, making him smile as he does it again.  
  
“Goddamnit-fuck, Loki, please pick something,” Clint hisses, hand tightening on Loki’s hip to try and not roll them over and hump him like an animal.  
  
“I want to be in you,” Loki decides.  
  
“Yes, fuck, anything,” the archer squirms until he can spread his legs and tilt them up in offering. His hand flails around under his pillow usurping a gun and a knife before he pulls out a bottle of lube.  
  
It’s quick work with the lube, Loki knowing all the spots and ways to loosen his lover. His eyes darken as they take in each moan and hip roll. Clint’s body is all ready covered in a light sheen of sweat from the run, and it only makes him look further enticing as writhes on Loki’s fingers. He keens when his prostate is found.  
  
“Ready, I’m-I'm ready,” Clint huffs out, voice tinged with need. He brings his legs up, holding them open so Loki can move forward between them.  
  
Heat and slick skin commands Loki’s focus for the first few moments he plunges into his lover. His vision swims so he drops his head to Clint’s chest to try and reorient himself. Find something to guide him through this pleasure. Must it always be like this? Sheer overwhelming need? Loki doesn’t know if it is safe to have this kind of fever.  
  
“Loki, please,” Clint got a hand on his lover’s back, trying to not cry out when the first thrust sendings fiery sparks up his spine. His other hands goes out seeking to grab cotton sheets for strength.  
  
Unable to respond with his voice, Loki continues his thrusts, over and over sinking into delicious heat gripping him, making his head spin and sweat break out along his brow. His body arches on its own accord, giving in or giving up...he’s not sure which.  
  
They lose themselves in the pleasure burning between them. Clint’s gasps and moans mingle with the demi-god’s own cries. Each moment stretched out and hastened, neither sure if they’re going to climax at all. Partially afraid they'd burn up, even with the slight breeze still drifting into the room.  
  
It takes just moments for smooth thrusts to turn ragged, harsh. Clint swears and begs, fingers dig into Loki's soft skin.  
  
"Don't stop, don't you fucking-fuuck!" he cries, voice going hoarse and raw. He tightens his grip almost to the point of painful, body shaking; cock leaking all over his sun-kissed skin.  
  
Loki rests his head on Clint's chest, letting his legs and hips do all the work. He watches himself disappear over and over and over into Clint. Hard long thrusts, and he knows that he's starting to tap into some of his demi-god strength, as control slips away. He'd worry about Clint being able to handle it, but he thinks that if he tried to stop the archer would kill him.  
  
"Yes, yes, yes, yess," Loki chants, partially unaware of the words coming out of his mouth, just knowing he needs to say something.  
  
"Loki, I'm-I'm-LOKI!" Clint screams, body tensing and shaking like he's been electrified. He comes, dick pulsing all over his stomach.  
  
That's all it takes for Loki's orgasm to spilt him open, leaving mind-numbing ecstasy in its wake. He cries out, unable to form words or stop the desperate sound that comes from his mouth. His hips roll through a few stuttered thrusts as he empties himself into Clint. His body completely beyond his control.  
  
They shudder and twitch for several long minutes, panting heavily on each other. A lingering wave rolls through Clint make him twitch under Loki and he whimpers as it leaves him feeling even more wrung out.  
  
"Best decision ever," the archer mutters, letting his hand trail down Loki's slick back.  
  
"What? Having sex?" Loki asks, unable to even pull himself off Clint so he's not sure he can disagree.  
  
"No," Clint sighs, "running away with you."  
  
The words make Loki draw up, aware he can't hide the shakiness in his arms as he settles to look at Clint.  
  
"What?" he asks. This topic, while probably always on his mind, hasn't been brought up. Loki held himself too accountable for the disasters that he brought to this world. Stealing Clint away after the staff had lost its hold on him, had always seemed like it was too good to be true. For so long Loki just assumed this too would be ripped away.  
  
Clint smiles, he tucks some of Loki's hair behind his ear. "I couldn't have made a better decision, Loki, than to run away with you. For us to disappear like this."  
  
The look of disbelief must be easy for the archer to read because he chuckles and shakes his head.  
  
"Surely by now you've realized how much I'm in love with you, right?"  
  
Loki feels himself shake a little, but in a different way. "You...you can't," he insists.  
  
"I can, my love. I do," Clint pulls him closer for a lingering kiss.  
  
When they pull apart, Loki can't find the words to argue anymore. He pulls out of Clint as gently as possible, then settles at his side.  
  
Sleep calls to him, even though he feels like he can’t possibly be tired still. It doesn’t help that Clint’s warm weight settled in next to him, pressed close enough to feel his soft long sighs as he too drifts off to sleep.  
  
“Go to sleep, love,” Clint whispers, “I’ll be here when you wake.” He traces a pattern in the sunshine lit skin on Loki’s stomach, as the warm beach breezes drifts in over them.  
  
Slowly, Loki closes his eyes, feeling more content than ever knowing that that is true.  
  
~  
  
It feels like seconds later when Loki’s eyes snap open. The first thought crossing his mind is: _damn, I didn't mean to fall asleep again._  
  
The room’s near pitch black and...cold. His hand goes out to the silky sheets next to him, smoothing over ice cooled material. Something in the back of his mind doesn't like this, makes him sit up because he knows Clint wouldn't have left him this late at night.  
  
“Clint?” he calls into the barely lit room. There’s a little light, a torch on the very distant wall. Loki smoothes a hand over the green material, feeling even more confused.  
  
Little bits of reality start to filter through his drowsy post-sleep state, they sink in his stomach, filling him with a dread he’s not known. He can see around the room, tables and chairs; assorted other things he’s been... allowed.  
  
He pushes the sheet off his lap, and climbs out of the bed. The floor is cool and smooth, a type of stone instead of hard wood or fuzzy rug Clint found at a local store.  
  
Nothing looks familiar for a while. The tables, the chairs, the books... _where is their dresser he picked out_? Loki makes it all the way to the glass wall of his prison before it all comes rushing back. The Avengers, the fight, and his capture.  
  
He hadn't escaped with Clint.  
  
He had been dreaming.  
  
Anger strikes through his chest, heating his skin. He desperately wants to lash out, break everything in the room: rip the sheets-that are _not their sheets_ apart-with his bare hands. He wants to smash and burn it all until he’s alone with nothing but the ashes. Something in him wants to cry and _scream_ until his voice goes hoarse and numb...until some of this makes sense.  
  
Loki wants to beat his hands against the walls, to pound away at them even though he knows they won't break even under Mjoilnir. He wants to unleash everything he's holding back, everything that happened in Manhattan being barely a fraction of the pain that eats at him now.  
  
But he doesn't.  
  
His body shakes with the rage and the hurt and the betrayal and _No more_ he begs in his mind. _No more of_ **this** _prison_.  
  
Freedom has never felt more distant, as it does when his legs give out and he slides down to the cold floor, his strength vanishing. Loki wipes his hand over his mouth, an urge to vomit passes for the moment.  
  
Hours will pass, he knows, until Odin or Thor come up with a better punishment suited for his crimes. A brief cruel smile crosses his lips. _It's funny_ , he thinks, _nothing they could come up with would be worse than this moment._

**Author's Note:**

> Crossed Posted at ff.net
> 
> Prompts! Suggestions! Comments! Feel free to leave them below or visit my profile for other ways to contact me.


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